he walked away, Carla said, “Nightcap. Already he’s talking like a politician.”
TWENTY-TWO
Clint made sure he said good-bye to Laura Linquist while she was surrounded by a good number of her other guests. He shook her hand and looked her in the eye. She squeezed his hand and said, “We’ll talk again, Mr. Adams, soon.”
“Yes, we will,” he agreed.
He went and found Gryder, Carla, and Heck Thomas, and they all went back to his house.
The three men who had been standing together the whole night watched as Clint approached Laura Linquist and said good-bye.
“When are we supposed to try for him?” one of them asked.
“I haven’t got word yet,” the leader said. “Don’t worry, it’ll be soon.”
“Maybe they want him to get deep into the campaign first,” the third man said.
“That’s a possibility,” the leader said.
“Who’s gonna pull the trigger?” the second man asked.
“We’ll see,” the leader said. “It’ll all be in the orders.”
“He’s leavin’,” the second man said.
“Let him go,” the leader said. “The time will come. Don’t worry.”
“His” house.
Clint was surprised to find himself thinking of it that way. Getting too comfortable in that house would be a mistake.
He unlocked the front door and allowed the others to enter ahead of him. Gryder turned up some of the lamps.
“Wow,” Heck said, “this place is impressive.”
Clint walked over to a sideboard that had been fully stocked with whiskey and brandy.
“What’s your pleasure?” he asked.
“Brandy for me,” Carla said.
“And me,” Gryder said.
“To tell you the truth,” Heck said, “I’d really like a cup of coffee.”
“I don’t know if Mrs. Bigelow is awake,” Clint said. In fact, he didn’t even know if the cook lived in or not. But as if in answer to a prayer, Mrs. Bigelow came walking into the room, fully dressed and alert.
“Sir, can I get anything for anyone?” she asked.
“Mrs. Bigelow, good evening,” Clint said. “I think our guests might like some coffee.”
“Of course, sir,” she said. “Right away.”
She turned and left the room.
“You’re a miracle worker,” Gryder said.
“In what way?”
“That woman,” he said. “I’ve never seen her so…amenable. I think she loves you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Clint said, “but I think I love her.”
“Well then,” Heck said, “if it’s not too much trouble, I could use something to eat.”
“That’s fine,” Clint said. “Carla, could you go and ask Mrs. Bigelow if she has anything she can prepare for Heck?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m not going in her kitchen,” Carla said. “She’ll kill me. She doesn’t love
me
.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “I’ll do it. Carla, keep Marshal Thomas entertained.”
He left the room, noticing as he went that none of the three people were speaking.
He entered the kitchen, being careful to knock first.
“Mrs. Bigelow,” he said, “did we wake you when we came in?”
“No, sir,” she said without elaborating on what she might have been doing. Clint could already smell the coffee brewing.
“One of my guests is Deputy Marshal Thomas,” he said. “He’s going to be staying with us for a while.” He’d already decided what tack to take with her. “I kind of want to show you off. Do you have anything you could make for him to eat? He only just arrived in town a couple of hours ago.”
“I have some leftovers I can heat up,” she said. “Actually, enough for everyone.”
“That’s great,” he said. “Heat it all up and whoever wants it can eat some.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bigelow.”
“You’re very welcome, sir.”
Clint thought that as long as he showed the woman respect, they’d get along just fine.
TWENTY-THREE
They ended up all sitting around the dining room table, eating some leftover stew that Mrs. Bigelow must have prepared even before Clint arrived.
“This is great!” Heck said
TWENTY-TWO
Clint made sure he said good-bye to Laura Linquist while she was surrounded by a good number of her other guests. He shook her hand and looked her in the eye. She squeezed his hand and said, “We’ll talk again, Mr. Adams, soon.”
“Yes, we will,” he agreed.
He went and found Gryder, Carla, and Heck Thomas, and they all went back to his house.
The three men who had been standing together the whole night watched as Clint approached Laura Linquist and said good-bye.
“When are we supposed to try for him?” one of them asked.
“I haven’t got word yet,” the leader said. “Don’t worry, it’ll be soon.”
“Maybe they want him to get deep into the campaign first,” the third man said.
“That’s a possibility,” the leader said.
“Who’s gonna pull the trigger?” the second man asked.
“We’ll see,” the leader said. “It’ll all be in the orders.”
“He’s leavin’,” the second man said.
“Let him go,” the leader said. “The time will come. Don’t worry.”
“His” house.
Clint was surprised to find himself thinking of it that way. Getting too comfortable in that house would be a mistake.
He unlocked the front door and allowed the others to enter ahead of him. Gryder turned up some of the lamps.
“Wow,” Heck said, “this place is impressive.”
Clint walked over to a sideboard that had been fully stocked with whiskey and brandy.
“What’s your pleasure?” he asked.
“Brandy for me,” Carla said.
“And me,” Gryder said.
“To tell you the truth,” Heck said, “I’d really like a cup of coffee.”
“I don’t know if Mrs. Bigelow is awake,” Clint said. In fact, he didn’t even know if the cook lived in or not. But as if in answer to a prayer, Mrs. Bigelow came walking into the room, fully dressed and alert.
“Sir, can I get anything for anyone?” she asked.
“Mrs. Bigelow, good evening,” Clint said. “I think our guests might like some coffee.”
“Of course, sir,” she said. “Right away.”
She turned and left the room.
“You’re a miracle worker,” Gryder said.
“In what way?”
“That woman,” he said. “I’ve never seen her so…amenable. I think she loves you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Clint said, “but I think I love her.”
“Well then,” Heck said, “if it’s not too much trouble, I could use something to eat.”
“That’s fine,” Clint said. “Carla, could you go and ask Mrs. Bigelow if she has anything she can prepare for Heck?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m not going in her kitchen,” Carla said. “She’ll kill me. She doesn’t love
me
.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “I’ll do it. Carla, keep Marshal Thomas entertained.”
He left the room, noticing as he went that none of the three people were speaking.
He entered the kitchen, being careful to knock first.
“Mrs. Bigelow,” he said, “did we wake you when we came in?”
“No, sir,” she said without elaborating on what she might have been doing. Clint could already smell the coffee brewing.
“One of my guests is Deputy Marshal Thomas,” he said. “He’s going to be staying with us for a while.” He’d already decided what tack to take with her. “I kind of want to show you off. Do you have anything you could make for him to eat? He only just arrived in town a couple of hours ago.”
“I have some leftovers I can heat up,” she said. “Actually, enough for everyone.”
“That’s great,” he said. “Heat it all up and whoever wants it can eat some.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bigelow.”
“You’re very welcome, sir.”
Clint thought that as long as he showed the woman respect, they’d get along just fine.
TWENTY-THREE
They ended up all sitting around the dining room table, eating some leftover stew that Mrs. Bigelow must have prepared even before Clint arrived.
“This is great!” Heck said
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